The View From The Afternoon
by habits
Summary: Snapshots of the lives of Remus Lupin and Sirius Black from 1971 to 1981 - the First War. 50 short drabbles.
1. Breakfast

**042. Breakfast**

"Sirius, come on, it's too early for--"

Sirius laughs, clutching Remus's prized camera to his chest and dancing just out of Remus's reach. Remus sighs loudly, applying himself once again to his coffee and breakfast while keeping a wary eye on the camera lens.

_Click._ Remus's unbrushed bed-hair, sticking up in a particularly interesting way. _Click. _A close-up of Remus's hand, covered in crumbs and clutching a piece of toast.

"You're wasting the film!" complains Remus, glaring. _Click. _"Oh, come on, you know I hate having my picture taken."

Sirius grins at the crease of a pillow on Remus's cheek. _Click. _"You need some photos of yourself," Sirius reasons, his smile more gentle now. "Besides, no one else is going to see them. They can just go into the box under your bed, and we'll pull them out when we're eighty-nine and sigh about how we used to have teeth and hair."

Remus has a smudge of marmalade at the corner of his mouth. _Click._

"Stop!" Remus exclaims, but he's smiling now. He ducks his head, his cheeks pink in the dusty light streaming in through the window. "That's enough."

"One more." Sirius moves to Remus's side, stretching the camera out as far as possible. Remus laughs softly, and Sirius presses his lips to Remus's cheek in a sloppy kiss and--

_Click._

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_**a/n: i need to start writing again, so this will be 50 unrelated drabbles/one-shots based on a prompt table from another site. please, please, please review! xo**


	2. Irritation

**028. Irritation**

Remus forgets, sometimes, what an incredibly annoying drama queen Sirius can be.

He's sitting on the counter, not doing _anything_, and Sirius comes in and glances with narrowed eyes at him, then takes the kettle and fills it up with water, slams it back onto the base with far too much force and a huge, annoyed sigh. Remus flicks his wand at the old radio, and it changes to a song that Sirius hates. Sirius accidentally nudges Remus's favourite mug in the sink and lets it shatter, and makes a small, regretful noise as he gleefully makes his cup of tea. Remus grits his teeth and turns the radio up louder, and then is grimly pleased when Sirius cuts his finger on a shard of the mug.

James says, "It's fucking creepy when you two fight, I hope you know that."

Remus grins, he can't help it, and when he looks up Sirius's mouth is twitching. _Fucking drama queen_, he thinks, and gets up to tend to Sirius's bleeding finger.


	3. Breathing

**033. Breathing**

It's strange, the War; Remus can't get used to the constant fear, the destruction of families and friends, the carnage. It's terrifying, and he thinks back to last June and lazy days at Hogwarts, when the world didn't seem like it was choking in dust and fog and grief.

The thing is - _everything_ is different. It makes Remus a little crazy. He's used to coping (had to be, really, since he was a little boy), but he's always managed to keep sane by seeking out the normal, the familiar. It seems like the higher the death toll rises, the harder it is to find the ordinary, little things - soothing things to make him breathe easier, calm down.

And then Sirius pokes his head around the door of his bedroom and grins, says, "Prongs said you were freaking out." He comes fully into the room, coat and gloves already on, clutching a bar of chocolate and Remus's scarf. "Come on," Sirius says. "Let's go for a walk," and Remus breathes in, breathes out.


	4. Miscommunication

**026. Miscommunication**

"Fuck no!"

"Sirius --"

"No, Moony!"

"It's Order work, Sirius, it's hardly my idea of a lark." Remus presses the balls of his hands into his eyes, fighting against the inevitable headache that will result from this argument. "Dumbledore needs someone to go underground – Death Eaters have been visiting the Werewolves already, and I'm ideal –-"

"Imagine how dangerous it will be!" Sirius is in one of his moods - too much energy and too much passion and not a lot of anything else. "Especially if they've already joined Voldemort! They'll kill you in seconds. Anyway, since when has Moody let anyone do anything without partners? If you go, I'm coming with you."

Remus exhales slowly, leaning his head back against the wall. "It's only a month, Sirius. Just to see what the—the situation is. One moon."

The glass he's holding slips from Sirius's fingers and shatters against the kitchen floor. Sirius ignores it.

"Dumbledore wants you to stay for a full? Fuck that, Moony, you haven't transformed alone since Fifth Year!"

Remus straightens up, suddenly angry. "Well, Padfoot, believe it or not, I can look after myself. I'm not as pathetic as you seem to think."

"Bullocks, don't—don't twist my words. Where are you going?"

Remus is already in the hallway, pulling on his coat. "Out. I'm going out."

"Come on, Moony, don't–-"

The door slams. Sirius counts to one hundred in his head. He half expects Remus to burst back in, not smiling, but still ready to talk things out.

The door stays shut.

"Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck."

Sirius punches the wall, the cheap plaster collapsing under his fist. He sighs, sliding down the wall and pulling his legs up to his chest. He rests his forehead on his knees.

"Fuck."


	5. Welcome

**049. Welcome**

Sirius hasn't seen him in fifty-one days.

Order meetings have become some perverse sort of torture, making Sirius hyper-aware of their constantly dwindling numbers, the seat between himself and Frank Longbottom that has been empty for almost two months. He breathes a sigh of relief when Moody dismisses them, unfazed by the loud shout of "_Constant vigilance!" _

James slaps him on the back bracingly, and Lily looks concerned as she kisses him on the cheek. Sirius can see the tightness in their faces and the purple bags under their eyes, the result of having to move houses for the fourth time in three months. Harry is asleep, a tiny, peaceful bundle in her arms, and Sirius bends down to peer at him. He lets his hair hide his face, grateful for the brief moment of respite from watching eyes.

"He'll be fine, mate," James mutters distractedly. "It's Moony, remember. We all know how tough he is." Lily looks like she's about to cry - they were always close, her and Remus.

Sirius attempts to smile consolingly - a forced grimace - and quickly excuses himself, lurching towards the fireplace on unsteady feet. He barely has the strength to shout his address as he steps into the green flames.

He sleeps on the couch now - the double bed is too empty, and the pillows stopped smelling like Remus weeks ago. Not that it can be called sleeping, really. Sleep was never something he excelled at, even at Hogwarts. The bottle of Firewhisky he opened last night lies empty, glimmering in the pale light of the three-quarter moon that shines through the window.

Sirius awakes from his thoughts with a start at the sound of keys clanging against the lock (they never did get around to adding a password). He gropes frantically for his wand, his hands grasping only air. Sirius is about to fling himself toward his discarded coat when the intruder enters.

It's Remus. He looks as tired as Sirius feels as he shuts the door with a quiet _snick_, leaning against the wall and closing his eyes. The light from the fire throws his scars into sharp relief, and Sirius can't look away from the new red lines running across his cheek, the purple bruising that disappears under his collar. He feels sick.

"Well," Remus says, his eyes still closed, his voice muffled by a scarf. "I'm home."

Sirius stares dumbly for a moment - just a moment - and Remus opens an eye, smiling softly.

"Hi, hello," is all Sirius manages to get out, and then he's propelling himself across the room, pulling Remus into a searing kiss that burns away the rest of the world.


End file.
